The Stars Are Half As Bright
by abbzeh
Summary: Based on the promo and spoilers for 5x15. Blaine sits in a hospital room watching over his fiance


___A/N: I don't even know whether this is any good or not. I just wanted to write this because of last night's promo, and also because I like to torture myself apparently. The title is from the Glee version of 'Papa Can You Hear Me?'_

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___Beep._

___Beep. _

___Beep._

Blaine sits on the edge of the small bed, stares at the tangle of wires and tubes and clinically clean white sheets surrounding Kurt. The sound of the rhythmically beating heart monitor, somewhere in the room with them, is distant to him. Unimportant to him.

Except at the same time, it's a comfort to him. Proof of life. Proof that those men – those ___monsters_that just left him there – hadn't caused the unspeakable to happen.

(___Yet_, the tiny voice of doubt and terror whispers in the back of his mind)

He's barely aware of anything else. He can hear periodic shuffling behind him - Sam, perhaps. Muffled sobs from Mercedes that she tries to stifle in her sleeve.

Rachel is silent. She stands next to Mercedes with dried tear tracks down her face, a look of frozen disbelief there like she can't believe what just happened. Like she can't process it.

Blaine feels the same way.

'Hey.' Blaine hears Sam's voice like he's listening from a distance away. His entire being is focused on Kurt's face, the bruising marring the porcelain perfection, the cuts and scrapes that line his eyebrows. The proof around his neck that someone had meant to kill him.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Blaine jerks, snaps his head around to stare at whoever the hand belongs to. Sam's there, frowning at him, and Blaine can do nothing but stare at him because he can't quite conjure up a response. His brain has switched off completely.

'Has anyone called his dad?' Mercedes asks quietly, arm moving up and wiping across her eyes.

Blaine honestly has no idea. The idea, as horrible as it sounds, had never even occurred to him. Had never occurred to him about how his fiancé's father would react. His fiancé's father who is faced with the prospect of losing his only child. His ___baby_.

Blaine doesn't know whether he wants to cry or throw up.

Rachel continues to stare listlessly at the ground, hair falling around her face. Her hands clench and unclench as she holds them against her stomach, and Mercedes touches her back, arm moving in slow circles.

'I'll – erm – I'll go and call him,' she says, moving her arm back and beginning to turn towards the door, glancing over her shoulder at Kurt every few seconds. Sam immediately goes to follow her.

'I'll come with you,' he says, 'in case you need moral support.'

Mercedes gives him a slight smile, casts a glance back and walks out of the room with him, already sliding her phone from her pocket. Blaine's stomach drops ten feet down as he imagines what Burt's reaction is going to be to this. He shifts a bit, careful not to jostle the bed too much, to jostle Kurt ___at all_, and he reaches his hand out. Brushes his fingers across the back of Kurt's hand, avoiding the wires and tubes poking out from the skin, around the wounds on his knuckles. A brief surge of pride wells up inside him like a flame, because here is evidence that Kurt had fought back against his attackers.

(___And yet he's still the one in here. He's in the hospital. Not the bastards that did this_)

'I'll go get us some coffees,' he hears Artie say, voice more subdued than usual, and he makes a noise of acknowledgement. He barely registers the sounds of the wheelchair moving away, the door opening and closing.

Blaine doesn't notice Rachel moving until she's on the edge of his peripheral vision. He looks up, fingers still stroking over Kurt's hand, brushing against his wrist and maybe lingering at his pulse point for a few seconds. Rachel walks slowly, footsteps somehow loud in the relative silence, and when she reaches the chair on the other side of Kurt's bed, she practically collapses in it, eyes fixed on Kurt.

Blaine brushes against Kurt's pulse again, carefully squeezes his hand. He lets his eyes linger on his face again, on the bruises and cuts and scrapes and evidence that someone had deliberately done this to hurt him. Somewhere beneath the dizzying shock, the paralysing pain and the absolute mind numbing fear, Blaine feels the first sparks of real anger, intense fury that someone had dared to do this.

'We had a fight,' Rachel says suddenly, voice so quiet it almost gets lost in the quietness of the room. Blaine looks over at her. She's wringing her hands compulsively in her lap, swallowing over and over again like there are ten thousand lumps in her throat. She breathes in sharply. Swallows again and looks down for a second. 'It was over something so ridiculous and I stormed out of the restaurant.' When she looks up, her eyes are glazed over with a teary film. 'If we hadn't had fought then we would have left together and none of this would have happened.'

'You don't know that,' Blaine says, shaking his head. The words come out slightly choked up. He takes a deep breath to try and calm his already fraying nerves and composure. Takes another.

'I'm just – ' Rachel begins to say, but she cuts herself off, bites her lip and glances down at her hands again. Looks across at Kurt, at Blaine. 'I'm gonna go and get a glass of water,' she says, standing up from her chair on slightly wobbly legs and smoothing out her skirt. She walks towards the door and grabs her bag and turns back to Blaine. 'Do you want me to get you anything?'

'No thanks,' Blaine murmurs, and Rachel gives him a half hearted attempt at a smile before opening the door and walking out. The door slowly shuts itself behind her. He sighs and focuses his entire attention on Kurt again. As he stares more closely this time, his thumb stroking over the parts of Kurt's hand that weren't covered in bloodied cuts, he feels a surge of overwhelming protectiveness.

Because Kurt isn't supposed to look like this. Kurt can walk into a room and fill it with his personality and charms and looks. He could sing anyone in the world off their feet, blow them away with his talent. He isn't supposed to be lying unconscious in a small hospital bed, tubes in his arm and hand and a mask over his face. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He isn't supposed to look so vulnerable.

He doesn't know why, but under his breath, he starts to hum the opening to a song. He takes his hand and brushes it along Kurt's face, carefully avoiding the various cuts and bruises. '___Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around_,' he sings softly, quiet enough for no one outside of the room to be able to hear it. He lets a hand drop down to where the black bruises cover Kurt's neck like paint splatters (___where the monster's hands had been_) and lets his fingers trail over them. He moves it back up to his face. Brushes a stray lock of hair back from his forehead.

'___Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir_,' he continues, choking up a bit as he shifts that bit closer, close enough to pull Kurt's hand carefully onto his lap. He holds onto it like an anchor, feels Kurt's pulse again, the beating sign of life and their future together. He almost wants to lean down and kiss Kurt softly, to break the curse with true love's kiss. Anything to get his eyes to open again, to let Blaine see the brilliant ocean of his irises.

'___Not while I'm around_.'

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_A/N: Hopefully, this turned out okay. In case anyone's interested, this can also be found on my tumblr, which is kurtsengaged _


End file.
